"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be unpardonable
"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried his wife, "what are you talking
of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely more." Then addressing
her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I shan't get a wink
of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so, at last.
I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever
I saw him, when he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely
it was that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that ever
Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her favourite
child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger sisters soon began to
make interest with her for objects of happiness which she might in future be able
Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty begged very
hard for a few balls there every winter.
Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; coming frequently
before breakfast, and always remaining till after supper; unless when some barbarous
neighbour, who could not be enough detested, had given him an invitation to dinner
which he thought himself obliged to accept.
Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for while
he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on any one else; but she found herself
considerably useful to both of them in those hours of separation that must sometimes
occur. In the absence of Jane, he always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the
pleasure of talking of her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the
same means of relief.
"He has made me so happy," said she, one evening, "by telling me that he was
totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed it possible."
"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for it?"
"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to his
acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much
more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that
their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented, and we shall be
on good terms again; though we can never be what we once were to each other."
"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever heard you
utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley's
"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really
loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented
his coming down again!"
"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty."
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and the little
value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had
not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous
and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice
her against him.
"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!"
cried Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed above
them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man
"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till
I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no,
let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with
another Mr. Collins in time."
The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a secret.
Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and she ventured, without
any permission, to do the same by all her neighbours in Meryton.
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the world,
though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, they had been generally
proved to be marked out for misfortune.
<CHAPTER XIV (56)>
ONE morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been formed,
as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the dining room, their
attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the sound of a carriage; and they
perceived a chaise and four driving up the lawn.
It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the equipage did not
answer to that of any of their neighbours.
The horses were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant
who preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that somebody
was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement
of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery.
They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three continued, though
with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open and their visitor entered.
It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their astonishment was
beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she was
perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.
She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other
reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down
without saying a word.
Elizabeth had mentioned her name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though
no request of introduction had been made.
Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance,
received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for a moment in silence,
she said very stiffly to Elizabeth, "I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady,
I suppose, is your mother."
Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.
"And that I suppose is one of your sisters."
"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Catherine. "She
is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest
is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon
become a part of the family."
"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short silence.
"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I assure you
it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's."
"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer; the
windows are full west."
Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then added,
"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins
"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last."
Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from Charlotte,
as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no letter appeared, and
she was completely puzzled.
Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some refreshment;
but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating any thing;
and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth, "Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish
kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a
turn in it, if you will favour me with your company."
"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and shew her ladyship about the different walks.
I think she will be pleased with the hermitage."
Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, attended her
noble guest down stairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened
the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after
a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walked on.
Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her waiting-woman was
in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk that led to the copse; Elizabeth
was determined to make no effort for conversation with a woman who was now more
than usually insolent and disagreeable.
"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in her
As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner:
-- "You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither.
Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come."
Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.
"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for
the honour of seeing you here."
"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to know, that
I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall
not find me so.
My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in
a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of
a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister
was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss
Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew,
my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though
I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly
resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to